Loved and Hated
by AoiNoKitsune
Summary: Why does Snape hate Harry so much? ... perhaps Sirius has an idea [shounen ai, Sirius POV] Oh, and - I love Lilly, I swear!


I don't own HP - must I really write this bull every time? Ain't it clear enough that most things posted on ff.net are created due to fans' love of their fav books, anime, cartoons, games, movies, comics... ? Why would anybody sue their own fans - everybody knows there's no profit involved here anyway.... =/ DOWN WITH THE DISCLAIMERS! They're just a waste of webspace!

Loved and Hated

[Harry Potter fanfiction]  
PG-13 (I think?) / Romance (mild slash ^^) + I guess it's kind of fluffy... *gags*  
by Kitsu

'Snape truly hates me!' Harry sighs with a deep frown. He nuzzles closer to me, like a little lost kitten searching for warmth. Sure the willowy flames that from the big stony fireplace call countless matching shadows dancing on every surface they reach are warming the room up, but even so, by watching them play over the smooth surface of Harry's oval glasses, I know they can't warm up the creeping cold memory of his parents' death. I also know he's aware of it all the time. And every time he smiles, every time he talks, every time he plays Quidditch, I can't help but feel my heart fill with awe.

I bring my arm around him carefully, covering him with a warm blanket. Dearest Harry, only one other person possessed your strength of spirit - your father. And if faith wasn't faithful to happiness, it wasn't faithful with you. No matter how much you claim spending Christmas with me makes you happy, I know I could never give you the gift you most desire, the wish that shyly lits your heart every time you fall asleep, in my arms, in Remus' or by yourself... because you and I, we both know that nether the first magic stride of Christmas morning sunrays can help you wake up in James and Lilly's arms.

'I wish he wouldn't...' Harry whispers softly, already dozing off I notice as I lean to plant a kiss on his scar-strained forehead. Yes, I know. It's not the first time I heard that whisper... A long time ago, it had left your father's lips, on this very couch. But it wasn't Christmas and the fireplace wasn't lit with warm flames. The room was cold and dark despite it was a light firefly-lit July evening. James was burying his face in my shoulder crying desperately. And desperate was not a word people believed the famous Gryffindor Potter could ever be associated with. Me included. Perhaps that is why I remember that grieving evening so clearly.

"Sirius..." I heard James' deep voice call my name, strangely torn and hesitant, as if it wasn't his at all. I cracked my eyes open feeling tired and groggy. It was the first night I got to spend at home, no longer as a Hogwards student - but as a graduated wizard. The graduation party had worn me out thoroughly, so as soon as I got home, I hit the sac immediately, collapsing on the couch - that was how James Potter found me. By the dark look on his tear-strained face I felt my stomach sting sharply. Not only was I flooded with worry, I was also immediately awake.

"What's wrong, Prongs?" I rose to my feet in a bolt and I would have ran to his side immediately, but he was already standing by the couch, his eyes lost somewhere in his own passive gaze reflecting from the dark-marble floor back at him. "Please sit down again," he pleaded quietly. And I did, of course, patiently watching him settle next to me. We sat like that in silence for a while, both pondering the situation at hand. Me - anxiously guessing what was wrong, him - trying to figure how to tell me. At last he seemed having decided, but with difficulty.

"Snape truly hates me!" he sighted with a deep frown. And I blinked, dumbfounded, not knowing what to think of his despair. Who fuckin' cared how Snape felt?

"James, he always truly hated you," I frowned, rolling my eyes. That didn't seem like a real argument to me, not when we had just left Hogwards and Snape behind forever. But somehow, from the troubled saddened look that veiled James' ever tricky-bright maple eyes, I sensed the trouble lay just there. As if knowing I've hit the jackpot, he looked away, letting his gaze glide across the room and trough the window, embracing the first croissant of the fading moon.

"You're wrong," he told me quietly.

"Wh-" this threw me off guard. What ever could Severus Snape, the biggest Slytherin nerd, feel for James Potter other than viscous, jealousy-strained hatred? James was nice and popular and had good grades and had a bunch of close friends and a beautiful, smart, charming girlfriend and was an excellent Quddich player and on to reach eternity, while he was nothing more than a mere shadow that happened to go to the same school. From time to time he would try to subtly find his mistakes, sticking his nose into everything that he pondered was enough to throw him off Lady Luck's saddle, but usually Remus or I would make sure he sniffed his way into a mouse-trap, the ivy rat that he was. As far as we knew, James never stopped us... up until the last time, when I went a little hard on Snape -alright, A LOT hard on him- and he risked his life. "... why would you care anyway? You've always hated him!" I finally snarled.

"Tell me, Sirius," he continued in his quiet tone, "is it better to have loved and lost or to have never loved at all?"

"To have loved and kept! James, what the hell is wrong?" I fared, loosing my nerve. I was a good listener, but seeing my best friend in such a state... I felt as if I had to knock that dark mood out of him somehow, it didn't matter how. And then it hit me. In a rush I grabbed his shoulders scanning him suspiciously, "You haven't brake up with Lilly, have you?!"

He gave a curt sad laugh, too numb from the pain that strained his heart to be surprised at my sudden intervent. "No," he said expressionlessly, and I couldn't help but let out a long sigh of relieve that I never noticed I was holding. At the time being, Lilly was already carrying below her heart the seal of their proclaimed love for nearly eight months. The seal that they both decided to name Harry. But if he wasn't having problems with her then... "... I had to brake up with someone else."

Silence grieved, the one in which I couldn't bring myself to speak, my voice was frozen. I didn't want to mouth the question. I didn't want to hear his affirmation. I didn't want to know. My hands held him firmly by the shoulders, my eyes held his in disbelieve. I felt words, those shocking, dirty words creeping slowly up my throat, inch after inch. They reached my mouth and I... "With Snape?"

He nodded, like I knew he would, and my had spun.

"Sirius," he breathed fearfully as my hands slid loosely from his shoulders, "will you still be my best friend?" I just nodded, stunned, but still willing to cooperate. A lot of unsettled riddles suddenly straightened out before me, all at once, and it felt as if I found myself siting on my broom clouded by a storm of shooting stars. So that was why he... And when he... And the time he... The letter he... I had to close my eyes and rub my temples if I wanted to stay conscious. Through the whirlwind of thoughts I heard him whisper again, a bit louder, but no less fearfully; "Will you hear me out, then?"

So I did. He told me about his observations, about his explorations, about his confusion of thoughts that was his first love. Yes, another boy -- but not just any boy. That boy was now a man, and that man was the cold, feelingless professor by the name Severus Snape. He told me it started by incident, a Potions incident. The two of them used to quarrel like mad, much like you and Draco Malfroy. I fell sick that day and Remus had offered to help Wormtail, so the professor ended up pairing them together. Yet, as things went, they ended mixing the ingredients wrong, too occupied by their continuous pinching and despising. I heard from Remus that the potion flooded half of the classroom as it exploded, so as James slid quietly in his bed far past midnight with a strange thoughtful expression, I just figured he was exhausted from his detention-cleaning pondering how to get back even with Snape. It was also I figured why he insisted being paired with him in next Potions class. The liquid exploded again, but neither looked angry - they just regarded each other with even blinkless stares, even when the professor shouted out on them ordering them to clean things 'till the classroom would shine - the old muggle way. And it kept happening every time.

I would have never guessed what James told me then. They found each other. Hatred had muffed their adoration and affection. But, too scared of what others may think of two fifteen-year-old boys loving each other, they decided to bottle it up.

"I promised him, Sirius. I said I'd give my life for him, that I love him that much," James told me bitterly. But soon, the professors and students started to investigate why were they always blowing potions up when they never had any problems with Potions homework or exams. So James eventually decided to pick up Lilly. For cover, he assured Snape. But gradually, he came to fall in love with her.

If it all started by incident, it ended on a party. The graduation party. Only neither of them ever showed up on it.

"We became one that night, and I... " James lowered his eyes to the floor, blushing as memories flooded him. Then his eyes shyly lifted up on me again, and he whispered quietly; "I had to erase your memory, Sirius." I blinked, puzzled. True, I mostly forgot pretty much everything about the good-bye party, but I figured I just had too much booze. "You were looking for us and, well... you found us." After an awkward minute of silence he added, quietly "Right after. In the library."

He told me I didn't throw a fit. That I just flushed like a nicely cooked crab, muttered something about doggie-fashion becoming a 'real' fashion and excused myself. "You were OK with forgetting it," he told me, "you said you'd never live up to keeping it a secret from Lilly."

I swallowed hard. I wasn't sure I could do it even then. "So why are you telling me now, James?" I asked, confused. I never felt this confused and flooded with information not even in Mage History class.

To my surprise, he broke down in tears, slumping helplessly down on the couch, "I- I can't live with it!" he told me, crying in front of me for the very first time. "When I erased your memory, I told Snape I was leaving with Lilly and-, and-- he has all the rights to hate me but--" he never finished his sentence, I drew him tight against me as if to soothe him down, but he muffed in my shoulder, heartbroken "... I love him...!"

"What about Lilly?" I asked coldly, still holding him tight. I knew he was sorry, but that couldn't drown the little flame of anger that burned inside me. "She's carrying your child, James."

"I don't know- I- She said it was fate... She said she knows the child was not a mistake and will become a wonderful person one day, but..."

"Are you going back?" I felt my stomach churn, "back to Snape?"

He calmed down embracing me softly and nuzzled in the hollow of my neck. I felt my eyes drift up out of the window and onto the dark-blue sky crowned by a blissful silvery moon. Why was I thinking of Remus all of a sudden?

"No," the answer came, muffed by my tear-strained robe, "I'll stay by her side. It's what I told Severus." As he spoke the name it transformed into a peaceful, longing, loving whisper and I held him tightly in my embrace. "I just wish he wouldn't-..." he sobbed desperately and clutched tighter at my cloak.

And all the while, I had a feeling I lost something, a very precious something, but I couldn't remember what.

'Sirius?'

I sleepily crack my eyes open. It's still Christmas evening, the flames are still dancing wildly in the fireplace and Harry's head is still resting on my shoulder. I must have dozed off. With the corner of my sleepy eyes I sense motion coming from the doorway and, adjusting the covers around my beloved sleeping godson, I lift my gaze to see.

'Oh, Ron...' I was half-expecting Remus to tell the truth but Ronald Weasley carrying a silvery plate with two big mugs of hot chocolate is just as a nice sight. Almost - if you ask me. Harry pleaded if he could bring him too so the redhead wouldn't be forced to spend Christmas in school alone since no one from Griffindor was staying for the holidays. Somehow I think he hadn't sounded as sincere as he normally does. I kinda like Ron, he's got that lively-prank-devotion demeanor that Remus assured me (more than once, too) that I used to have. But he never forgot to point out just how much more mature Ron was, compared to me... Points of view, says me! -.-'

'You were sleeping...' he mutters, aquamarine blue eyes filling with guilt. And by 'you' one would think he meant us both, but I've got this feeling he only meant Harry, for his gaze never leaves his awakening form. He stretches prettily in my arms, but I decide I won't let him cuddle himself back to sleep again, not when that dark threatening frown keeps shadowing Ron's face. Christ, alright already! I'm moving away... I disentangle from the blanket and, standing up, I tighten my night-robe around myself. My gaze slides down to my groggy godson again, but he's not looking my way. He's watching Ron approach with the plate with a sweet little smile curving his lips. This is the Boy-Who-Lived, the one appreciating such small attentions as a simple mug of hot-chocolate. Or is he smiling because of who's bringing it?

Nah, this definitely isn't my territory, it's Remus'. He's pretty sensitive when it comes to romance and feelings in general. But then again, he's the very impersonification of sensitivity plus a helpless romantic, so what could one expect? And at the same time, while he beholds such an enormous heart, no one would guess how much sorrow and pain it holds. He lets it out, all at once, howling up into the starlit sky until even the full moon can hear him. Yes, he's a werewolf. He's why I learned to call Padfoot to lend me his form until I could keep him company in his sorrow. All those long lonely nights I spent in Azkaban - 12 years! - I kept wondering how was he feeling, was anybody taking care of him? Was there someone who helped him live trough those painful days? Patiently healing the wounds that were always left marking his body, wound his own claws made while he tried to keep sane not to hurt anybody? As I suspected, he didn't. Yes, even wizards can be enough racistic stuck-up dumb arses not to trust another race - they're... we're human after all.

'Thank you, Ro-'

Ron Weasley doesn't waste time! He already settles on the couch where I was sitting moments ago the very same second I lift my mug from the platter. 'Here, Harry,' he smiles brightly and offers him the mug, while he lets their eyes meet happily. Hmm, interesting. It seems I, the host, have became air all in a rush. Oh well, I'd better go to bed anyway, it's getting late. I walk for the door yawning and sipping my chocolate. Shall I tell Harry and Ron to go to bed too? ... nah, they'll be fine. They're old enough to decide it by themselves, are they not? Besides, it's Christmas eve, so I guess they can stay up as long as they want to for a change. As I lean to close the door I hear Ron's voice, trembling a little, but filled with shy determination; 'Harry, you've got chocolate on your lips."

'Really? Where?" Omg, I can't help but roll my eyes. That's like, the oldest trick in history! At this point I can't help but steal a peak - after all, this is my godson being tricked!

'Right here...' the redhead smiles shyly and quickly plants a clumsy kiss on Harry's lips. It takes him a surprised moment to process the situation and he's already kissing back, or at least trying to. And Ron's concern-filled pallor lifts from his cheeks only to be replaced by a blush red enough to match his hair.

And I close the door quietly thoughtfully heading down the hall for the kitchen, sipping from my mug on my way.

Dearest Harry, I know you'd find it absurd but... I think I understand a lot of things now. About your father, about you... about Severus. I won't say It's for sure, but at least it's what I believe. I think I know why your Potions professor hates you. It's because deep inside he doesn't, because he can't. I'm sure everybody is filling your ears with how much you look like your father, like the James Potter that loved Severus Snape and that Snape gave his whole heart to. And, imagine, how much must it hurt him to look at you, such an astonishing resemblance, until - until he meets your eyes, Harry. Your clear meadow green depths. Even I feel like looking in the astonishing emeralds of proud Lilly Evans every time I gaze at them. Even though no one can tell what your father was thinking while he tried to fit two shoes with one foot, it still seems to lead us all somewhere, somehow. And I think Snape feels it. For when the time comes, he'll show the love his heart keeps veiling with hybrid hatred, I'm sure. His love for you, my dear Harry.

I walk trough the opened door of the kitchen noting Remus whipping his hands in a cloth, smiling to himself. He must have just finished washing the dishes. I wait until he poises his misty gray eyes on me and I lift my eyebrows, back-thumbing the way I came from. 'They're kissing,' I tell him trying to sound amused, but I think he knows already. He always does.

He laughs shortly, a slender hand lifts itself to cover his lips transforming his melodious laugh into charming giggles. Oh yeah, he knows already. 'Good. I'm glad the plan worked.' I can't help but think back of the times when we were at Hogwards planning up pranks or night-out adventures. Usually James was the plan-master, but Remus was the next best thing with his emphasis and predatory instinct. I, by my part, was mostly an action lover and I like to believe I still am. I'm merely a flinch over thirty, I'm not old!! ... am I?

'Sirius,' I hear my name pass his lips with a hint of anxiety, 'it's time.' And before I can ask him time for what, he already opened the back door stepping out in the moonlit glade of snow, letting the icy wind play with his old worn-out robe. I've seen that sight often, but I never get tired of it, as long as I get to see his long pale blond locks, tied loosely at the nape of his head, whirling to frame his elegant shoulders. Still cautiously keeping in the shadow of the house, he turns back to face me and I feel called by those lively gray eyes of his. 'Come,' he pleads and, placing my empty mug in the sink, I can't find a reason why not.

I step in the snow by his side and my eyes steal up to the moon. It's full - of course, he'll become Moony now in no time. I can feel the cold wind creeping trough my bones, but I feel no urge to go back inside to get my winter cloak, I know I soon won't need it anyway. 'Thank you, Sirius," I hear his voice trough the wind and I drag my gaze away from the moon brightening the cold-blue winter sky to meet the one reflecting in his eyes, 'I feel better knowing you're running by my side.' Somehow I know he hasn't said that to me for the first time, even though I don't remember... I gaze into his eyes, in those deep msitically gray depths trying to dig out the missing puzzles in my memory. Was it something he said on the graduation party?

Suddenly his eyes focus sharply on my face and he frowns slightly, 'Erm... Sirius, you've chocolate in the corner of your mouth..."

Quickly, I wipe my lips with the sleeve of my robe, blushing. Why the hack haven't I notice it before... ? But I find my sleeve clean and I watch it, realization slowly settling in. Slowly, I lift my eyes to his again, just taking in the way the moon reflecting from the snow seems to gather a loving sparkle that may have vaguely be labeled tears. Remus... you've kissed me before, haven't you? You're the reason why I haven't freaked out over James and Snape, aren't you?

'Where?' I ask him quietly, but it's not a question. It's a promise. I have been loved and I... I'll remember. For you, Remus. For me.

And he leans softly towards me, gently calling for my lips, 'Right here.'

Like a snowflake his lips touch mine and then, before I can draw him in my embrace, it melts away, melting the barrier that seals my most precious memory. He steps back in the snow until moonlight embraces him, his eyes never leaving mine. He pulls at his robe and it pools at his feet effortlessly. I blink, stunned, but as my eyes flutter open, they meet those gray depths again, only this time they're framed by the finest silvery fur human eyes have ever seen. But it's just a glimpse I'm given, for in the next moment, the beautiest and strongest of all the winter wolves strides weightlessly across the moonlit snowy glades until he fades in the calm embrace of the deep night woods.

My robe falls on the snow too, but I can't feel the cold. Soon, my paws are marking the stainless snow as I dash to catch up with Moony. Yes, James. I understand now.

Please stand by our side. 

End*~

* * *

Kitsu: ARGH! Muse! It's all your fault!! .  
**Gomamon**: What? What did I do? o.o  
**Kitsu**: You frickin' inspired me the day before my final Maths exam, that's what!! You didn't bother the week before - I HAD A COLLOSSAL WRITER'S BOLCK!! Omg- it's 7:27PM! Where's my Trigonometry pole... .  
**Gomamon**: ... what's the point you study anyway? You suck at Maths so much you could give Lord Voldemort's ethereal form an excellent blow-job.  
**Kitsu**: O__O ............................ -.-' if I wasn't so busy I'd snap your neck for that... Now where did that pencil go?!  
**Gomamon**: *melodramatically* there he goes, our brave knight! Struggling trough bloodstained sheets of algebra with his trusty HB Excalibour until the morning lights and getting an E to mark his knighthood... AGAIN...  
**Kitsu**: Yeah, well, ... -____-' don't remind me...  
**Gomamon**: *still melodramatically* but shall the trusty readers save the knight from his misery? Shall they review?  
**Kitsu**: You better bloody hope so, Goma. I'll turn from knight to dragon if they don't and guess who's gonna get it =/ This fic is your fault, remember?  
**Gomamon**: *ever melodramatically* Oh! Shall the trusty readers save the faithful muse in distress...?! .'


End file.
